Through Thick and Thin
by loveislouder94
Summary: That's what family is: they're the people who see all your flaws and your mistakes, and they love you anyway. The Weasleys are a tight-knit bunch, and the bonds they share are timeless and unbreakable. ::1 - Bill and Charlie 2- Bill and Molly 3 - Arthur and his children::
1. Space

"Hey Bill, what do you think it's like in space?" Charlie looked across the room at Bill expectantly. Bill was his older brother, and in Charlie's eyes, Bill had the answers to everything.

Ten year old Bill frowned. He was a big boy, only one year away from going to Hogwarts, and he thought he knew quite a lot, but he didn't know that. "I'm not sure Charlie… Why do you want to know that?"

"Because I was thinking about what dad was saying to us the other night at the dinner table, about how there are Muggles who have gone into space in big space ships. They were called atto – arro - "

"Astronauts?" Bill supplied.

"Yeah, them. Astronauts. Maybe I could be one of them when I grow up! Do you think they have dragons in space?" Charlie's eyes lit up with excitement as he spoke, and he clutched Fire, his toy dragon, tightly in his hands, dreaming of adventure and far-away places.

"I don't think there'd be dragons in space, Char. They wouldn't have anything to eat, or anywhere to live," Bill pointed out.

"Oh yeah," Charlie said. His face fell momentarily before he thought of something that made him smile. "It's okay, I could just bring Fire with me, and then he could be the first dragon in space ever!"

"That's a great idea! Then you could be extra famous. You'd be a wizard and an astronaut, and the first person to bring a dragon into space!"

"Wow," Charlie breathed, staring at the stars that decorated his ceiling.

There was a knock at the door, and their father poked his head into the room. "It's getting late boys, time for me to turn out the light. Good night."

"Good night, dad," they chorused.

While Bill fell asleep quickly, Charlie stayed awake imagining his future as a famous dragon-whispering astronaut. He'd be rich and famous and there'd never be a single dull day in his life. He'd float among the stars, in a special suit just like his dad described, and he wouldn't be tied down to anyone or anything, he'd simply do as he pleased. It sounded perfect. That night, Charlie's dreams were full of dragons and space men and stars and even though he couldn't remember them in the morning, he woke up with a smile on his face and a goal in his mind.

A few years later, a more grown up Charlie considered the issue again. "Remember when I told you I was going to be an astronaut who works with dragons when I grow up?"

"Yeah," Bill nodded, smiling at the memory.

"Well, I might not become an astronaut. Dad said that it's really hard, and I'd have to pretend to be a Muggle, or else I'd be breaking the Statue of Secrecy or something. I don't know what that is, but it sounds important. I don't want to break it. I'd get in big trouble, and I wouldn't know how to put it back together again!"

Supressing his laughter, Bill smiled at Charlie to indicate that he should continue. He didn't have the heart to tell his younger brother that the Statute of Secrecy, if broken, could not be so easily repaired.

"So maybe I won't be an astronaut. I'll go someplace else, like Romania, and work with dragons. I read a book from the library, and it said that there are dragon enclosures in Romania. Imagine that, actual dragons up close!"

Although he didn't share one tiny bit of his brother's enthusiasm, Bill let Charlie explain all about what he'd read in that particular book, and others, and just like he had about the astronaut idea, he encouraged Charlie and made him feel like everything he hoped for might actually come true.

When Charlie announced his intentions to move to Romania and study dragons, his mother was upset and opposed to the idea. It wasn't that she didn't support Charlie's decision or want him to be happy, it was just that she had never been so far away from any of her children before, and she worried about how he would cope all by himself. His dad, unsurprisingly, shared her opinion.

It was Bill who talked them into letting him go, by arguing that this was what Charlie had wanted to do since he was little; for a long time, he had talked of scarcely anything else. Charlie had to promise to owl them at least once every week, initially every day, and to come home whenever he could. They were small, inconsequential details to Charlie. With Bill's help, his wish to work with dragons in Romania had come true, and he could barely believe it.

He kept in regular contact with most of his family, especially Bill. Charlie was the first one to find out that Bill was dating Fleur, and the first to know that Bill was planning to propose. He returned to England for the wedding, excited and admittedly a little surprised. Bill had never seemed like the type to settle down. Similar to Charlie, he had lived a comfortable life as a bachelor. Still, after seeing the two of them together, and the way Fleur didn't even bat an eyelid at his scars, Charlie knew his brother had made the right choice.

Charlie himself had been taken aback by the sight of his brother's marred face. He had been warned, of course, Mum had owled him straight away, and Bill had mentioned it in his latest letters, but nothing could have prepared him for how different Bill looked.

Charlie was sure that his horror must have been plain to see, yet Bill gave no indication he had seen anything out of the ordinary, greeting Charlie warmly as he always had.

Once they'd each downed a few Butterbeers in the kitchen of their childhood home, Bill pushed his glass aside. "You'll be my best man, right?"

"Really?"

"Course," Bill said easily. "There's no one else I'd even consider."

"Blimey Bill, I'd love to!"

Charlie never did make it into space, nor was he famous as anything other than one of the Weasleys who participated in the Battle of Hogwarts. But through all the things he achieved and all the things he didn't, Bill was a constant, the brother he couldn't live without.

**Written for:**

**The Connect the Weasleys Challenge - Bill and Charlie  
The HP Potions Competition - Dragon Tonic**


	2. Crash

"Mum, Fleur and I are going to get married." Bill sat at the Burrow's kitchen table, a bowl of freshly made soup cooling in front of him. He decided to come right out with his news, otherwise fear of his parents' reaction might have kept him silent for too long, and once the words were said, he didn't regret it.

"What?!" The plates Molly had been levitating fell to the floor with a loud crash, where they lay fragmented and jagged, everything Molly hoped her family would never be. It was the sight of those broken plates that forced Mollly not to voice all the doubts and criticisms and questions that had sprung to mind with Bill's news. One son had already been alienated from her for reasons she could not control, and she wouldn't let the same thing happen to another.

Bill, thinking that she hadn't heard him correctly, repeated himself. "I said that Fleur and I are going to get married." He waved his wand and the plates repaired themselves and sailed over to the table.

"I heard you, dear, it's just a bit of a shock. How long have you known her exactly?"

"A little over a year. It might not be as long as you and dad knew each other before you decided to get married, but I know it's long enough. There's no doubt in my mind that she's the one I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Molly couldn't fault the sincerity in his tone. "If she makes you happy, then your father and I will support you every step of the way. But she is a fair few years younger than you, isn't she?" Molly knew she sounded disapproving, and she didn't want Bill to feel as though she and Arthur were against him in any way. Still, she'd only glimpsed Fleur Delacour at Hogwarts, and from that fleeting observation, Molly had surmised that she was nothing more than an arrogant, spoilt young girl. Molly could see no reason, aside from her looks, for Bill to be attracted to her.

To Molly, this decision seemed rushed and out of character. Bill might have an earring now and wear his hair a length that Molly found inappropriate, but he was not irresponsible. He'd been both Prefect and Head Boy at Hogwarts, and he'd always been a supportive older brother to his younger siblings, particular Charlie and Ginny.

"She's nine years younger than me. Tonks is thirteen years younger than Remus, and you don't seem to have a problem with that." At Molly's surprised expression, he added, "I'm not stupid, or deaf. It wasn't impossible to work out why she's always over here looking like her heart's been ripped out of her chest."

"Their situation is entirely different. They've worked together for the Order, they've known each other more than a year… Oh, Bill, I just don't want you to rush into something you're not wholly sure about, just because there's a war on, and especially not with someone your family has hardly met."

"I thought you might say that, which is why I've invited Fleur to come and stay with us at the Burrow over the summer. She can get to know the rest of you, and you her. In time I hope you'll come to be as fond of her as I am. What do you think?"

"It's not a bad idea…" Her tone was unsure, betraying her reluctance, and Bill didn't miss it.

"Please just give her a chance mum, for me."

"Well, when you put it like that I can hardly refuse. For you, I'd do anything," Molly smiled.

"Thanks mum," Bill said gratefully.

"Can you at least cut off that ponytail before the wedding?"

Bill only laughed in response, and Molly shook her head, smiling to herself. It was going to be an interesting summer…

**Written for the Connect the Weasley's Challenge (Prompt: crash).**


	3. To Be A Father

Percy & Arthur

Whistling, Percy sauntered into the Burrow, eager to share the news of his promotion with his family. He was finally being recognised, for more than just his hair and his name, and the thought filled him with pride.

"Exciting news," he proclaimed to the Burrow at large, "I've been promoted. You are now looking at the Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic." He'd been expecting congratulations, excitement, at least some support from his family. Instead, his parents were looking at each other in a way that suggested they were silently debating the best way to break a piece of very bad news.

It was his father who spoke, slowly and carefully. "Perce, don't you think a promotion is a bit unusual, given what happened with Mr Crouch not very long ago?"

"Well they've obviously realised that none of that was my fault, and I simply did my best under bad circumstances, and my best was worthy of a promotion."

"I'm not saying that it's not, just – have you noticed how manic Fudge has been acting, storming around demanding to know who's had contact with Dumbledore? I'm worried that he might have had an ulterior motive for offering you that job."

"Like what?"

"Like getting you to spy on us and, by extension, on Dumbledore."

Percy stared open-mouthed at his father, before a white hot fury took him over. "I can't believe this, I can't believe you'd act like this! I've had to struggle against your lousy reputation at the Ministry from day one, and now that I'm finally getting somewhere, you have the audacity to say it's not on my own merit?"

Percy roared insults at his father, hurling his words like missiles through the air, and Arthur felt an enormous sense of rage and indignation rise up inside him. Percy had been living with them – living under his roof – for his entire life, but it was only now that the naked truth lay between them, black and ugly.

"If we're such a dead weight in the way of your all-important career, then go. Leave us behind and see how far you get. I'll not be spoken to like this! You can either apologise, or get out!" Arthur didn't mean for things to turn out the way they did. He was furious and hurt and shocked at the way an ordinary day could turn so quickly into something terrible, but he didn't want his family ripped apart.

Percy, however, didn't see it that way, and he didn't need telling twice. The door slammed shut and suddenly the silence in the kitchen was deafening. Arthur was red in the face and breathing heavily, hardly able to believe what had just happened.

Ginny tentatively poked her head into the kitchen, with Ron, Fred and George close behind her. "What happened?"

"Percy's gone," Arthur said hoarsely. "He's not coming back."

Arthur & Charlie

Charlie walked into the kitchen, where his father sat at the table clutching a cup of tea and staring blankly out the window. He'd been doing that a lot since the Battle. They all had.

"Dad?" Charlie asked tentatively.

"Morning, son. Did you sleep okay?"

Charlie nodded automatically, although he doubted that any of them had really been sleeping all that well since they lost Fred. His loss was still so raw and painful, and they were only mourning one family member. Charlie shuddered to think how Andromeda must be coping, to have to come to terms with the death of Remus, Tonks and her husband.

"It's good to have you home Charlie," his father said suddenly, and when Charlie looked over, he was startled to see moisture in his eyes. "No matter where you work or live most of the time, you'll always belong here."

"I know. It's good to be back. And I'm – I'm sorry I wasn't here when you needed me," he choked out, around the unexpected lump that had risen in his throat. "I should have been here."

"It doesn't matter anymore. You're here now, and that's what's important."

Arthur & Fred

"Happy Birthday, son," Arthur says to his son's grave. "You'd have been twenty-one today. We all miss you so much." His voice is only a murmur, but that doesn't really matter. Fred can't hear him anyway. Fred is gone, and his family will never be the same.

Arthur takes a deep, shaky breath, tenderly tracing the letters carved into the headstone:

Fred Weasley  
1st April 1978 – 2nd May 1998  
Beloved brother, son and friend

Is this all that his life comes down to, now? A bunch of letters in a piece of stone, nothing to show that Fred _lived _that he once walked among them, a fragile mass of skin and bone and matter, so much more than the sum of all his parts. The finality of it is something Arthur still struggles to grasp, nearly a full year later. Here in one moment, snatched away in the next, and how – how – can that be?

"You wouldn't want us to be sad all the time, Freddie, and we know that. We're doing our best, for you and for ourselves, even if sometimes our best self is a weepy mess. We have our good days and our bad days, our good minutes and our bad minutes. It's so hard without you - " Arthur's eyes glisten with tears, and he wipes them away with his sleeve.

"Look at me, going on about how you'd want us to be happy, and yet here I am blubbering away…We'll be strong for you today, and for George. He's not the same without you. If it wasn't for the missing ear, we'd still think he was you… Maybe it was a blessing in disguise."

Arthur pushes himself into a standing position, staring at the grave for a long time. "Happy Birthday, Fred. We'll never forget you."

Arthur and Bill

"Ready? I'm going to push you now, so you have to hold on!"

"I will dad, I'm holding on really tight, see?" Bill squeezed his hands around the metal chain of the swing set, bringing them close to his father to prove his point.

"Good boy. Here we go… One, two, three…" Arthur pushed Bill gently forwards, and he kicked his legs and giggled happily as the momentum swung him out and then back in again. Arthur shook his head in wonder, marvelling at how such a simple Muggle invention could be the source of so much fun. Muggles really were cleverer than most wizards gave them credit for.

The swing began to slow, before stopping completely, leaving Bill with an adorably disappointed pout. "Do you want me to show you how to swing yourself?"

Bill's toothy grin was an answer in itself, so Arthur sat on the swing next to him and demonstrated. "Move your legs at the same time, back and forth, like this."

Watching intently, Bill copied his father's movements, delighted when he started swinging on his own. Excited, he swung higher and higher, and Arthur saw his grip loosen. "Be careful," Arthur warned, but Bill was having too much fun to notice.

As Arthur had feared, eventually, Bill swung too high and held the chains too loosely, and he was flung from the swing and onto the ground. Arthur was at his side in an instant, ready to soothe him with hugs and calm reassurances that it turned out he didn't need. Despite looking slightly shocked and upset, his son picked himself up and shook himself off.

"Are you okay, Billy-boy?"

"Yeah dad, I'm okay, just hurt my knee." The knee in question now sported a small graze, about which Bill didn't seem particularly bothered.

"You're so brave," Arthur said proudly.

"Nah," Bill shook his head. "I just think about what mum always tells me: it doesn't matter how many times you fall down, as long as you get back up."

Arthur was speechless for a moment, struck by the wisdom that so often came from the mouths of his children. Bill, on the other hand, had no time to waste.

"Can I go on the swing again?"

Arthur & George

"Your ear must be cold George! It's winter and you're going around without a hat or scarf. Imagine what your mother's going to say!"

"It always feels like winter," George retorted, without needing to explain himself. Fred had been gone for six months now. They were all coping (or trying to cope) in different ways, and George was understandably struggling the most.

"I know, son," he said heavily, sliding into a chair next to George. "But you know the thing about seasons? They pass. Inevitably, cold and dark as it might be, something will come after. It might not always be spring or sunshine or rainbows, in fact, it definitely won't always be those things, but there will always – _always – _be something, and that something is worth waiting for."

He wasn't talking about the weather any more, and they both knew it. George was in no mood for a lesson, but he played along anyway. "How much bloody longer am I going to have to wait, dad? All I ever do is wait for this to get better, for the day I'll be able to accept that he – that _Fred _– is gone, and it doesn't come. There's only ever more pain and more rage and more confusion, and it's so damn exhausting!"

The scolding parent in him wanted to tell George not to swear, but the grieving parent won out. "You cried a lot after it happened, didn't you?"

George nodded.

"And you cry less now than you did then?"

He nodded again.

"Then there's your season. There's your spring, and it's not what you want to hear, it's not what any of us want to hear, but it's all we've got."

Arthur & Ron

Secretly, Arthur always harboured a lot of worry about his youngest son. Ron had so much insecurity, even from a young age, and there was nothing they could do about it. He and Molly couldn't change or undo the order they'd had their children, and nor would they have done if they could.

Still, he saw how having five older brothers, so successful in their respective fields, had affected him, not to mention the added burden of a sister on whom they all doted. It was no secret that Molly had always wanted a girl, and she was over the moon when Ginny had been born. While that delight by no means diminished her love for her sons, it was easy to see how it could have exacerbated Ron's feelings of inadequacy.

He and Molly always tried to give their children the best of everything, even when their financial situation was by no means ideal. It just so happened that Ron was left with all the hand-me-down's. He hardly ever complained, but the disappointment was clear on his face every time he thought he'd get something new, and he was presented instead with Charlie's old wand, or Percy's old rat, or whatever the item happened to be.

Arthur didn't want Ron to feel as though they were all ahead of him in some way, leaving him behind in the dust, so he tried whenever he could to show Ron that he was important to them. He asked him about his day, wrote letters while he was at Hogwarts, helped him enchant the ghoul when he ran off with Harry and Hermione.

For all the things Arthur did and could have done, he knew that ultimately, those insecurities were ones Ron had to overcome on his own, and Arthur couldn't have been more proud as he saw it happen, bit by bit, until the day he saw his son waiting at the end of the aisle. Hermione Granger walked towards him, and there was no trace of insecurity hiding in his face, only certainty and love.

It took a long time for Ron to be comfortable with and as himself, and even though he didn't know it, Arthur watched him every step of the way.

Arthur & Ginny

"Your mother tells me you're not talking much. Do you think you'll ever tell us what's been going on at Hogwarts this year?"

His daughter eyed him seriously from underneath the curtain of her hair, and Arthur was struck by how much she'd grown in sixteen years. Where had his baby girl gone? She shifted her position on the couch so she was facing him before answering.

"Maybe, when this is all over. But I assure you, the ins and outs of Transfiguration aren't all that enthralling." She tried to deflect, clearly reluctant to talk about it, and he decided it would be best to respect that. "When I was little," Ginny continued, "you told me I had the world at my fingertips. You told me to look out at the stars, and know that I shone just as bright as any of them. You lied. Why did you do that, why would you lie like that?"

Arthur's heart broke for the desperate creature in front of him, so different from the lonely little girl who'd once poured all her secrets into her diary, the first thing that would listen. His daughter had changed in so many indefinable ways since then.

"You _do _shine just as bright, if not brighter, and you always have! When I said those things, I believed they were true, and they still can be. Think about all the things you've done! More than most girls your age, I'd hazard a guess, and not the least of them is dating the Boy-Who-Lived." At Ginny's surprised expression, Arthur smiled. "Oops, was I not supposed to know about that? Forget I ever said anything!"

Ginny rolled her eyes, but she had a smile now too, albeit a small one, and Arthur felt a little bit better. "I love you, my shining star."

"Love you too, dad."


	4. Soft

"Charlie, help me cook dinner, won't you?" Hearing her question, and knowing how rare it was for Molly Weasley to ask for help with anything lately, he winked at Ginny to show they'd continue their conversation later and rushed to join his mother in the kitchen.

"Sure mum, what can I do?"

Her back was turned away from him, so her voice was muffled when she replied. "Just peel and chop the potatoes please, dear. I've already got the soup boiling and some meat ready to roast. I'd do it all myself, but I wouldn't want to miss anything."

Charlie heard what she wasn't saying: ever since the Battle, since they'd lost Fred and had his funeral, she hadn't been the same. She'd thrown herself into the familiar routine of being a mother, cooking and cleaning and fussing over them all like no one else could.

Still, there were times when she'd be doing something completely normal, like making the beds, and all of the sudden she'd stop and burst into tears, reminded of something Fred had said or did or felt and she'd have to stop what she was doing and cry. She tried to hide it, and she never mentioned those times to any of them, seeing them, Charlie hypothesised, as a sign of weakness. She'd also developed a habit of forgetting what she was doing or why she was doing it.

The whole situation was alarming and unprecedented – in addition to grieving over Fred, they became increasingly worried about Mum and the way she was coping (or decidedly not coping). Seeing his mother like that left Charlie feeling helpless and frustrated, hating his inability to do anything to help her. They were all in the same boat, watching Molly struggle, but Charlie felt a deeper sense of guilt and responsibility, probably born of the fact that he'd been safely tucked away in Romania for most of the war.

He'd let his family down, and he wanted – needed – to make it up to them, so he was staying at the Burrow and trying to help out in big ways and small, from helping rebuild Hogwarts to preparing dinner.

"Got it. How many should I do?"

"A fair few, it doesn't matter exactly. Luna and Xenophillius Lovegood are coming over for tea, so more than usual. Here, I'll grab them for you." Her answer was vague and didn't exactly help, nor did the huge bag of potatoes she dropped into his arms.

He opened his mouth to ask her again, gently, stopping when he noticed that she was staring at him contemplatively, apparently having forgotten what they were doing.

"Your hands used to be so soft, before you left…" To Charlie's alarm, Mum looked like she was about to cry. The smallest things made her emotional now, though Charlie had never expected the state of his hands to set her off.

"I –I can make them soft again!" Charlie said stupidly, desperate to say anything to make her feel better.

She frowned in confusion, and to Charlie's relief, she looked slightly less teary than she had a few moments before. In fact, she looked like she was trying not to laugh. "Oh, Charlie, what am I going to do with you? You'll make them soft again, honestly…" She snorted quietly, and in the next second she was laughing out loud, clutching her stomach with one hand, and Charlie with the other.

When her hilarity had subsided, she let Charlie go and wiped her eyes, still smiling. "I don't know where that came from. I suppose I needed a laugh. Thanks for that, Charlie."

Still at a loss for what he'd actually done, Charlie nodded and smiled uncertainly, chalking it up to unpredictable female emotions. Whatever it was, Charlie knew he wanted to hear his mother laugh like that more often, that he'd happily listen to her laugh like that every day for the rest of his life.

**Written for The Connect the Weasley's Challenge, and As Strong As We Are United (Version II) **

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to let me know what you think and leave a review, I'd really appreciate it! :) **


	5. Born

Molly and George – born

"I still remember the day you were born as if it were yesterday…" Molly reminisced.

George watched her, listening with a tolerant but not overly interested smile on his face. It was his wedding day, and she knew that bringing up memories of Fred or the war wasn't something he'd probably want her to be doing. It wasn't really something she wanted to be doing, either, but the memory danced in front of her eyelids and filled her with wonder.

How had the little baby she'd cradled in her arms twenty-five years ago turned into someone so broken and simultaneously so strong?

"Well, you've grown up so much, is all I wanted to say," she said, patting his hand. "Now go and find Angelina, I want to see you two enjoying your first few hours as husband and wife."

A genuine smile appeared on George's face as he jokingly replied, "We'll probably be enjoying the hours that follow a little more, if you get my drift…" Leaving his mother to choke on her drink and determinedly not think about what he'd just implied, he headed off to find Angelina, caught in a throng of well-wishers.

Recovering herself, Molly looked around until she found Arthur, smiling at having caught him staring at her from a neighbouring table. Reminded immediately of their teenage years, before they'd started dating, she giggles, moving to sit next to her husband.

"I was just thinking…"

"How far we've all come?" She needn't have been surprised that he could finish her sentences, Arthur knew her better than anyone else.

They both watched George for a while, and Molly didn't need to ask to know that they were thinking along the same lines. Their twin who was no longer a twin had lost so much in his short life – an ear, a brother, friends, and every now and then he'd lost his faith and his way, but he'd always kept going.

Every single obstacle had tried to stand in his way, and none of them ever had. Molly had been helpless as he'd had to restructure his identity and learn what it meant to live as George, a distinct entity from fredandgeorge, and it ate away at her slowly.

She'd sent him letters and packages of food and anything else she could think of daily, hoping, above all, to remind George that he was not alone and he never would be. All the other people in the world could fall away, and George would still have his mother. They were family, for better or worse, and nothing changed that.

**Written for:  
The Connect the Weasley's Challenge  
As Strong As We Are United (Version II)**

**Leave a review and let me know what you thought! :)**


	6. Fight

Molly & Fred

Molly's grief was overwhelming and unending. It hurt more than anything, and it didn't seem to get any easier. She'd always hoped that none of her children would ever have to fight for their lives like she and Arthur and so many others had to before You-Know-Who fell.

For fourteen blissful years, she believed they wouldn't, that they would be safe, as least as safe as she could make them. Then came the Quidditch World Cup, when she fussed and fretted and cried because she hadn't heard from her family, and what if the last thing she'd ever said to her twins were angry shouts?

Her relief when they appeared at the Burrow was so intense it was almost palpable; she didn't think she could bear to lose one of her babies. So many times she'd come close, Ginny taken into the Chamber of Secrets in her first year, Charlie working with deadly dragons every day, and Ron getting into all sorts of trouble during his adventures with Harry and Hermione, but every single time, by some miracle, she and her kids had made it through. It was only later that Molly realised that she'd come to take that luck for granted, to nurse a conviction, deep in her heart, that no matter what, all the members of her family would pull through. The alternative is –was - unthinkable.

War was a horror too great for her children to face – for any children, really – and she hated what it did to them, forcing them into adults long before the joy of childhood should have faded from their faces.

She'd watched helplessly, as parents sometimes must, unable to save her babies from the chaos the world was quickly becoming. Through it all, Fred and George were her light, much as she voiced her disapproval of their antics and lack of interest in their school work. The world grew darker and darker, and the laughter Fred and George brought with them became a precious commodity, and Molly wondered how she could ever have tried to stop them from being anything other than their pure, mischievous, immeasurably influential selves.

They were fredandgeorge in her mind, impossibly intertwined, almost one being instead of two, and that was the beauty of them, Molly thought. While everyone else felt intermittently alone and misunderstood and stuck in the frightened existence that had been thrust upon them, Fred and George were never alone in quite the same way, because they always had each other.

They leaned on each other for support when they needed it, for encouragement and inspiration and the simple pleasure of having company. Identical in appearance down to the last freckle, to most other people, they had been impossible to distinguish until George's accident.

Molly Weasley, though, was not most people. She was a mother– she was their mother, and she prided herself on her understanding of her children. There were times when even she couldn't tell them apart, and they'd lord them over her for ages, but those times were rare.

Molly noticed, for instance, that when they entered a room, it was usually Fred who came first, followed by George, and it was George who stopped their more outrageous ideas from spinning out of control, exercising the extra smidgeon of responsibility that Fred seemed to lack.

Secretly, Molly thought that Fred had always been the more outgoing twin, and she guessed that he'd have coped differently (maybe not better) than George had their situations been reversed and Fred had been the one left behind.

The fact of the matter was that Fred was gone, and Molly was a mess, for a long time unable to truly believe that Fred, her Fred, was never coming back. She was like a yo-yo, up and then down, fine one minute, sobbing the next, and she never knew what might cause a fresh wave of grief.

The last thing she ever said to Fred was "I love you," and if nothing else, she clung to the fact that Fred knew how much he meant to her when he died, because memories were all she had left, and she would replay them over and over again in her mind, keeping some part of him alive.

FredFredFredFred. She repeated his name to herself at least once every day, trying to remember, trying to forget, trying to make sense of something that was never meant to be, and every day she lived without him was like a different kind of loss. There was no remedy, there was only life –relentless and painful and uplifting, messy and surprising and demanding that she _live._

So she did, experiencing all the days Fred never would, and hoping he was watching her from somewhere above, waiting for the day she'd meet him there.

**Written for:  
The Connect the Weasley's Challenge  
As Strong As We Are United (Version II)**


	7. Nightmare

1985

It was the middle of the night, and the sounds of muffled crying and footsteps roused Bill from his sleep. Slipping out of bed, he crept to the landing to investigate and recognised the voice immediately.

"Ron?" He called quietly. "Is that you? What's the matter?"

Ron hurried over to Bill and wrapped himself tightly around Bill's legs, refusing to let go. "I had a nightmare," he sniffled softly. Bill awkwardly ruffled Ron's hair and rubbed his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. It was difficult to be sure when he was required to bend so far to reach him.

"Oh no, that's no good. Nightmares are scary, aren't they?" Ron nodded, and his sniffling had subsided for the most part, so Bill gently tried to extricate himself from his brother's grasp.

"How about you let me go now, and you can come sit on my bed and tell me all about it?" He suggested gently. "We'll just have to be really quiet so we don't wake Charlie, okay?" Obediently, Ron followed him back to his room, carefully mimicking Bill's footsteps and being as quiet as possible.

Once they were both comfortably positioned against the headboard of Bill's bed, he looked to his younger brother for an explanation, and Ron began to retell, in a halting, frightened whisper, the details of his bad dream.

"There was so many spiders! Big ones and small ones and hairy ones and bald ones, and they were all coming towards me and they were hungry! They were going to eat me, and I couldn't move. I was stuck, and I called for mum and dad but they didn't come! It was so scary! One of the spiders was about to eat me, and then I woke up… I don't like spiders, Bill. Don't let the spiders hurt me!"

Bill felt a momentary urge to wake the twins and show them what their so-called prank had done to their little brother. Ever since Fred and George had transfigured Ron's favourite teddy bear into a giant spider, Ron had been plagued by a terrible fear of the things, refusing to go into a room that held a spider, even if it was miniscule. He'd start trembling and turn alarmingly pale, and Mum constantly worried that he might faint in fright. She had yelled so long and so loudly at Fred and George when she found out what they'd done that Fred and George swore they were partially deaf for days afterwards. Bill wasn't overly concerned for them. All the punishment in the world, however much it was deserved, could not undo the fear they had inadvertently conditioned in Ron.

"It's okay, Ron," he soothed. "It was just a bad dream. There are no spiders here. I won't let them hurt you, I promise. I'll save you."

Ron had calmed down by that time, resting his head on Bill's shoulder and letting his eyes drift shut. "I'll keep you safe," Bill promised, but his words fell on deaf ears. Ron was already sound asleep, and watching him, Bill felt himself sliding into a restful state, still with one arm draped comfortingly over Ron's shoulders. In the morning, Molly found them in the same position, and the sight brought a smile to her face. Silently, she went downstairs and came back with a camera, capturing a picture of the oldest and youngest of her boys.

* * *

The photo sat in the lounge room of the Burrow for years after it was taken, and even Ron was particularly fond of it, because it was a depiction, in a way, of the essence of their relationship. Bill was the perpetually protective, understanding older brother, and not just to Ron. It was something that Ron appreciated doubly as much when he appeared at Shell Cottage in 1997, sopping wet and exhausted, and Bill took him in without question.

It was late at night when he arrived, just like it had been all those times when Ron had woken up after having one of his nightmares, and Bill would be there to comfort him. The scene was eerily similar, except that this time Bill couldn't fight off the monsters in his mind, Ron would have to do that himself. Well, most of it.

Ron had a hot shower to warm himself up and changed into some of Bill's old clothes, and when he came downstairs, Fleur had returned to bed, and Bill was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a steaming cup of tea. He gestured to the chair opposite him, which had an identical drink in front of it, clearly meant for Ron. "Have a seat."

Apprehensively, Ron did so, anticipating the interrogation that would surely come next. He pulled out his chair and sat down, busying himself with blowing air onto his tea and trying with an appalling lack of discretion to look anywhere other than at Bill. Surprisingly, Bill was content to let him be, and he didn't try to start a conversation like Ron had expected he would.

After a few minutes, the silence grew oppressive, at least to Ron, who kept hearing Hermione's voice in his head, pleading with him to come back and plaguing him with guilt, so he broke it. "Being in this house reminds me of when we used to come here when we were kids, and we'd always complain because Percy and I would have to share a room… We stopped coming after a while though, didn't we?"

"Yeah, once we were all a certain age, there didn't seem to be any point coming here anymore. We were all busy with jobs or homework or friends… Speaking of friends, you seem to be missing yours. Care to explain why? "

Ron squirmed in his seat, wanting to postpone this conversation or not have it at all, but he knew that if he had to confess everything to one person in the world, he'd want it to be Bill. "I – I was stupid. I was such a prat, Bill. I ran away from Harry and Hermione. I left my best friends behind, and I hate myself so much for it!"

While Bill listened attentively, Ron spilled out the whole story (leaving out the part about the Horcruxes, obviously.) He told his brother about his feelings for Hermione, and how they'd always been tainted by a little bit of jealousy directed towards his best mate. Without referencing the necklace or its function directly, he explained how those feelings had been greatly exacerbated while they'd been on the run, and the way he'd tried so hard to keep them hidden and in check, until one day he couldn't do it anymore, and his resentment burst out in a spiteful torrent of thoughtless, piercing words.

The sun was spilling into the sky by the time Ron had finished telling his story, and both he and Bill were yawning constantly. Still, it was only once the tale had been told in its entirety that Ron realised just how exhausted he was, and only then would he have been able to drift off to sleep.

Bill didn't approve of what Ron had done by any means, and he made that much clear straight away. What he didn't do was heap Ron with guilt or make him feel any worse. He seemed to recognise that Ron was more than capable of doing that himself, and what he needed most of all was someone who would listen and not judge him too harshly.

"Hey, Bill," Ron said suddenly as they stretched and prepared to head to their respective rooms.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." It was a single word, but within it Bill could hear so many different things, all the gratitude his brother, generally so inept when it came to emotions, struggled to convey.

"Anytime, Ron."

**Written for:  
The Connect the Weasley's Challenge  
As Strong As We Are United (Version II)  
The Different Genre Competition: Family**


	8. Ignore

Bill & George

Bill stands in the back room of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, while George stands across from him, frowning and clearly not wanting to be there. "If you've come here to give me the lecture, lording your big brotherly wisdom over us younger Weasley's, I don't want to hear it. I'm doing fine like this, and can you please tell mum to stop sending owls every single day. The stench of bird is starting to infect every inch of our flat." He doesn't register what he's said – it is not "our flat" any more, George lives there alone.

"You can't ignore us forever. Or your pain, for that matter," Bill says reasonably, refusing to be provoked by George's anger.

"As a matter of fact, Bill, as a human being I have a thing called choice and that means I can do whatever the Hell I damn well want. If I want to stay in my flat instead of coming to family dinners, I'll do it. And if I want to sing gospel hymns in nothing but a tutu, I'll bloody well do that too!"

Struggling not to smile at the image of George dancing in a tutu, Bill nods, considering the best way to explain his perspective to his brother without alienating him further. In the end he doesn't have to, for George speaks first.

"And for your information, I'm not ignoring anything. I went to his funeral, didn't I? I caught up with Angelina afterwards; we had a drink and talked about him. I've still kept the shop up and running, it's still got his name out the front. I feel my pain, okay, I feel it every singly goddamn minute of every single goddamn day and don't you ever insinuate that I don't. I miss him so fucking much and just because I might not deal with it the way you and the others do, doesn't change the fact that I miss him!"

"You miss who, George?" Bill challenges. "You went to _whose_ funeral? _Who_ did you talk about with Angelina?"

"FRED!" George roars suddenly, spit flying from his mouth and tears building in his eyes. "I miss Fred and I went to Fred's funeral and it was the worst thing I've ever done and I wish he wasn't dead, I wish he was here with me, running the shop with me, doing everything with me, even annoying the crap out of me, because then at least he would be here and I could see him and say goodbye and tell him he was an idiot and – and I can't. I can't because he's gone, and just because I've said his name now doesn't bring him back."

"No," Bill says carefully, conjuring a box of tissues and handing them to George, who snatches them and hastily wipes his now-flaming, tear-stained face. "It won't bring him back. I thought that saying his name might help you come to terms with it, though."

"Well, thanks for the suggestion. My lunch break is over; I guess you can see yourself out." Later, George will regret his rudeness. At the time, he doesn't even notice it.

"If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me." Bill will keep offering, despite George's attitude, because George is his younger brother and while he can't take the pain for him, he's more than willing to walk beside him every step of the way.

**Written for:  
The Connect the Weasley's Challenge  
As Strong As We Are United (Version II)  
**


	9. Futile

Bill knocked on the door of Percy's flat in London, unsure how he'd be received. He'd sent Percy several owls since his big fight with Mum and Dad, but so far all of his efforts to communicate with his brother had been futile. Bill recognised that if he wanted to talk to Percy, he'd have to go to him, that way there was no way Percy could avoid him. He came on a rare Saturday he was required to be at Gringotts, when he could be reasonably sure Percy would be home (probably buried in paperwork there, too).

He waited on the threshold until he heard footfalls on the other side, signalling Percy's approach. The door opened and Bill was face to face with his brother for what seemed like the first time in far too long.

"Bill," Percy said stiffly. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Percy. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing, can I come in?" He deliberately avoided mentioning anything about Dumbledore or the rest of the family; he didn't want to start off on the wrong foot.

Percy was having none of it. "I've been living here for months and you've never come to visit me once. When I was living at the Burrow, you hardly ever showed the slightest interest in me or my well-being, unless it was to mock me like the others. So why now?" He folded his arms across his chest defensively and stared angrily at his brother.

Bill grimaced uncomfortably. Everything Percy said was true, and it stung. "You're right about that, Perce. I've not always been there for you. That's something I want to change. I know you're not speaking to mum and dad, because Fudge is spouting all those lies about Dumbledore - "

"Lies?" Percy challenged. "So you believe them too? You think I didn't earn my position, you think that it was given to me as some sort of trick or ploy to spy on you all? If you want to be there for me Bill, you've got a strange way of showing it!"

"No," Bill backpedalled frantically. "That's not what I meant, that's not what this is about - " He didn't get a chance to finish.

"Goodbye Bill," Percy said coldly, slamming the door in Bill's face. The noise reverberated through the hall, and it rang with a hollow, disappointing finality. He noted sadly that the differences between he and Percy were apparent even in their appearances. They both had the signature Weasley red hair, but that was where their similarities ended. Bill was comfortable in Muggle clothes, probably more comfortable in them than he was in robes, if he was being honest. Percy, on the other hand, never left the house in anything except wizards robes, and wore them like a badge of honour. He was proud, not prejudiced, yet even his choice of attire separated him from Bill and his other siblings. Bill wore an earring, Percy wore his glasses. Percy was tall and lanky, Bill was heavier and slightly shorter. Their differences were obvious, and Bill only wished that their similarities were too.

Bill had come to see Percy during his lunch hour, so he went back to Gringotts and began to pen a letter to his second oldest brother as soon as he sat down at his desk.

Dear Percy, he wrote, and then he stopped, his quill hovering in mid-air over the almost blank parchment. What should he write next? He knew what he wanted to tell Percy, he just couldn't figure out a way to say it.

He chewed the tip of his quill, remembering the countless times he had seen Percy do exactly the same thing while he sat in the Burrow, bent intently over his latest report or piece of homework. Suddenly he knew exactly what he was going to write to Percy, and it didn't matter if it was eloquent or chronological or meticulously neat, what mattered the most was that it was true. He set his quill to the parchment and wrote solidly, forgetting about the meetings he'd booked for the afternoon or the work he'd intended to do.

By the time he was finished, he felt satisfied and cleansed, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There was all likelihood that Percy would throw his letter into the fire as soon as he read it without bothering to reply, and there was an even higher likelihood that he wouldn't read it at all. Bill was well aware of that, and it didn't dampen his mood in the slightest. The very act of writing the letter had been cathartic, and Bill could rest easy, having addressed the guilt that had plagued him since Percy's blunt outburst.

Watching the owl fly away with his letter attached to its foot later that night, Bill exhaled deeply and smiled. He could safely say that he had done everything he could. He hadn't always been the perfect brother, son or human being, but he acknowledged and accepted his mistakes and tried to make things better. One day, he knew, Percy would come to his senses, and Bill would be there for him when he did.

* * *

Dear Percy, the letter read

I started to write this the moment I got back to my desk after seeing you earlier, and you know, at first I had no idea where to start. I still don't know really, so I'm just going to write what I know, and I hope that you'll keep an open mind while you read this and remember that we are, underneath it all, brothers. We're family, Perce, and I think sometimes I forget how important that is.

Do you remember when we were younger and I would have to babysit you and Charlie every now and then while mum went out somewhere? A lot of the time, I'd entertain Charlie and you'd entertain yourself, sitting in the corner with a book. But there were other times when you and I would sit on the couch and I'd tell you all about Hogwarts and you'd listen so eagerly, because you weren't old enough to go yet. Or I'd ask you about the book you were reading and we'd sit and talk for ages about all sorts of different things. Or even rarer, when I'd cajole you into playing a game, and you looked more relaxed than I've ever seen you.

I guess what I'm trying to say with those memories is that I know that you and I were never as close as we could have been, we were certainly never as close as Fred and George, or even Charlie and I. It might have had something to do with the way you were sort of sandwiched between us, with two older brothers and the twins and Ron and Ginny below you. But family ties don't need to be clear and overt to exist, they're there in the small things, in the details that other people might overlook, the ones that family simply know. I mean, it's clear as day to all of us that Ron and Hermione are going to end up together, yet if you tried to tell either one of them that, they'd deny it until the Hippogriffs come home.

I know I make – made – fun of you sometimes, as we all did at some point, and in retrospect I can see that it wasn't fair of us at all, and we should have considered how you felt. It was alright for the rest of us, we'd give as good as we got, but all you ever did was deflect, and it can't have been easy on you. The twins, especially, teased you. I think they saw you as an easy target, because you were different to the rest of us, and you didn't fight back. As much as I might like to, there's no way I can turn back the clock and undo all those jeers and taunts and hurtful incidents and I know there's really nothing I can say to erase them from your memory. What I do wish to do – what I hope I can do – is replace those negative memories with positive ones, if you'll let me. I meant what I said today, about wanting to change our relationship, to be there for you like I haven't been before, and I know it won't be easy, Merlin, it'll probably be downright uncomfortable at times, but you're my brother and I feel like I don't know you at all, and I want to.

Today, I put my foot in it, when I jumped right in and talked about Dumbledore and Fudge and whatever is going on between them. All that stuff's important, don't get me wrong, but you know what's more important and enduring? It's not the overarching story or the arguments about right and wrong, even though those things seem like everything sometimes. It's the day to day things, the moments and people and feelings that you'll never forget and you'll never want to forget, like those afternoons we'd play games and talk and just be the kids that we were. Those are the things that stay, when all the other times fall away, and those are the things that get you through when your own company isn't enough. It's people, connections, family, that make you who you are. Maybe not always in good ways and maybe not always in bad ways, but always in undeniable ways.

I'm rambling, and I'm sorry about that. There's so much I want to say to you, so much I never said when we were younger and so much I should have said today. But perhaps it's better this way. In writing there's a freedom that speaking doesn't give. I feel like this is my chance to spell it all out, and I'm not one to miss a chance when it's given to me, and I don't think you are either. I hope you're still reading and haven't tossed this letter away, although I don't blame you if you have.

If nothing else, please make contact with mum. You don't have to talk about your job or dad or Fudge or Dumbledore, but I'm asking you – I'm practically begging you – to reach out to her. You know how much the seven of us mean to her. She always pictured herself as a mother, and somehow she found enough space in her heart to love us all. Not being in contact with you, not knowing if you're okay, if you're happy and healthy, is killing her, and I mean that literally. She bursts into tears unexpectedly, she's hardly eating or sleeping, every time someone's at the door she looks hopeful, and none of us have to ask to know she's wishing it'll be you coming back to us. I'd never seen her cry as much as when she came back on Christmas holding your present in her arms. She's not mad at you over that fight you had with dad, she's sad, and she misses you.

Dad, on the other hand, is angry, even though he misses you too. You really hurt him with those things you said to him, you hurt all of us. I admit, for a long time after I heard what happened I wasn't exactly your greatest fan, and I'm not going to pretend that's changed. Some time has passed since then, and now I think I can try and see it your way, to try to understand what would make you despise us so much. I guess it started a long time ago, with the rest of us never including you as much as we could or should have, and with dad not earning huge amounts of money. We got by, and I know that I accepted the way things were without question, but I suppose seeing so many other families who were better off would be a bitter pill to swallow. The fight you had with dad, I'm guessing, was years in the making, years of pent up emotions exploding to the surface in a messy eruption and while I understand that, I don't – I can't – condone the things you said. They were hurtful, and they're not going to fade easily. Having said that, we'd all forgive you in a heartbeat, and we will, when you decide to let us back in. Whether it's in a month or a year or a decade (because we will all be reconciled one day, I have to believe that), we'll be there for you, and we'll fight this war with you.

You-Know-Who - Voldemort - is back. You might not want to believe it, and I understand why, I do, but denying something exists isn't going to make it go away. Dangerous times are coming, and I don't want to see you hurt, none of us do, not mum or dad or the rest of us. If you ever decide you want us back in your life, you'll always be welcome in ours, because that's what family is: they're the people who see your flaws and your mistakes, and they love you anyway.

Take care, Percy.

Bill

**Written for:  
The Connect the Weasley's Challenge  
As Strong As We Are United (Version II)  
**


	10. Last Dance

In the back garden of the Burrow, a party raged. People danced to the music of the band, and the music of their hearts. The night was warm and the atmosphere relaxed, but Molly found that inside, she felt an unshakable cold.

She sat at a table by herself, a cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders to defeat a chill that no amount of clothing could dispel. With slightly shaking hands, she raised her glass to her lips, instinctively making a mental inventory of every member of her family. Harry and Ginny were dancing, as were Ron and Hermione. George and Angelina were sitting in the corner with Bill and Fleur, Arthur was talking to Charlie near the table of drinks, and Percy – Molly started in surprise and quickly mustered a weak smile – Percy was making his way towards her.

Extending an arm to her, he asked, "Mother, may I have this dance?"

"Certainly," she replied, matching his formality and standing up. She took in the sight of her most ambitious, and in some ways, most broken, son, and tears gathered in her eyes. She tried to push them away, and hoped he wouldn't notice, to no avail.

"Mum, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Sorry Percy dear, it's nothing, really. Just – well – this is the last dance I'll have with you while you still belong to me. You're married to Audrey now, and I'm happy for you, I really am, but I feel like I'm losing you a little bit too."

She didn't say "I already lost you once, I can't bear to lose you again." Though the words remained unspoken, their implications hung in the air around them, charging it with tension and regret. It had been years since Percy ran away from his family and returned for the Battle, and for the most part, his actions had been more or less forgotten. Yet it was times like these which reminded Percy that you can never really escape your greatest mistakes.

He didn't want to address the direction his thoughts were taking, either out loud or to himself, because he knew where they would lead: to Fred, to guilt, to blame and the demons that kept him awake at night. So he took a deep breath and scanned the crowd until his eyes found Audrey.

She was talking animatedly to her parents, looking radiant and alive with a happiness that seemed to come from deep inside her and spill into her every movement. She spotted Percy and waved, smiling wider than before.

Percy found himself smiling back immediately, and felt a wave of happiness settle over him, pushing away his worries. That was Audrey through and through, able with her very presence to make him feel better, to make him _be _better.

He turned back to his mother, looking her squarely in the eyes. "You're not losing me, mum. I'm not going anywhere. Audrey and I will still live in our flat, we'll still come around for dinner once a week or once a month, however often you want us to and if we're busy at work and can't make it sometimes, I'll send you novel-length letters to make up for it."

"Novel length?" Molly said, humour in her voice and in her eyes, "Really Percy, you needn't go that far." They smiled at each other, at ease again, and Percy thought that maybe there had never been anything tense or uncomfortable between them, and that the only tension had been in his mind. He became more certain when his mum pulled him into a hug. "I love you Percy, so much," she whispered.

"Love you too, Mum," Percy said, a lump rising in his throat. His mother had never given up on him, even during the long years he'd been in London, refusing to have anything to do with her. He'd slammed his door in her face, sent back her gifts unopened, given her more than enough reason to hate him and never take him back. And yet here she stood before him, just as proud of him and happy for him as she'd always been, with just as much love shining in her eyes.

Time and time again, Percy would search her face, examine her mannerisms, scared – no, terrified – that he would find disappointment there, or shame of the son who had betrayed her and every other member of his family. He searched, almost desperately, for some inkling that she blamed him for not saving Fred, for not protecting his brother as he should have, because if even his forgiving, loving mother blamed him, then surely all the blame he placed on himself was justified?

She never, not once, showed him that. Instead, she showed him the opposite. She showed him how it was possible to forgive even the most seemingly unforgiveable deeds, and she showed him how powerful and liberating that forgiveness could be. His mother showed him how love could endure so much sorrow, and remain as strong as ever. Through her persistent care, daily owls and carefully prepared meals that conveyed just as much affection as words ever could, she helped him accept that he deserved to be loved in spite of his mistakes – possibly even more so because of them.

He stepped away from their hug and swallowed the lump in his throat, filled with a renewed sense of appreciation for the unbreakable woman who had raised him. She was a cook when he was hungry, a cleaner when his room was messy, a Healer when he came running into the Burrow with scrapes and bruises, a seamstress when his clothes had holes, a counsellor when he was worried, a warrior when he was threatened. She was a mother to her very core, and Percy couldn't have asked for better.

Percy took her hand and prepared to lead her on to the already crowded dance floor. He wanted to make her feel special and important, to repay her at least in some small way for everything she'd done for him.

"So, mum, shall we dance?"

**Written for:  
The Connect the Weasley's Challenge  
As Strong As We Are United (Version II)  
**


	11. Elephant in the Room

"Good idea, inviting Angelina to the Ball," George remarked, smiling at Fred. It took effort, and it felt more than a little forced, but he hoped he had his brother fooled.

Fred looked up from his hastily scrawled, half-finished essay, meeting George's gaze seriously, so that neither of them could be in any doubt as to where they stood. Fred wasn't fooled by his smile. They're twins, almost one entity, and they cannot lie to each other. Most of the time, it was a blessing to have someone who knew your heart by heart. Just this once, George thought it might be a curse.

"Yeah," Fred answered, "figured I might as well set an example for Ronniekins. Merlin knows he's not going to pluck up the courage to ask Hermione to the Ball without any help."

"It doesn't look like he'll ask her _with _help. Our little brother is as blind as a bat when it comes to girls. Besides, didn't Hermione say she already had a date?"

"Yes, and she's staying very mum about it. Maybe we should - "

"Ask her about it. That would be too easy. We should probably - "

"Slip a little Veritaserum into her Pumpkin Juice. She'll spill all her secrets then."

They slipped easily into prankster mode, finishing each other's sentences without having to think about it, and neither of them acknowledged the elephant in the room. George was a little bit in love with Angelina, had been since she made a point in first year of addressing George, then Fred. Everybody else did it the other way around. George was older by a minute, yet somehow they became FredandGeorge, not GeorgeandFred. Fred always came first, alphabetically and in a million other ways that George had never considered until the tables were turned.

From that point on, George found there was something that fascinated him about Angelina Johnson, drawing him to her almost irresistibly. The twins had never acknowledged it to each other, but George was certain Fred knew how he felt about her, and that was why it hurt so much, why his heart bled with the bitter sting of betrayal, when Fred posed a casual question and just like that he had everything George had ever wanted.

It hurt even more when he saw Fred and Angelina dancing at the Ball, the centre of attention with their wild antics and their blatant disregard for what anyone else thought of them. Later, Fred tried to say that he went with Angelina so he could encourage her to see a different side of George, and he might have been telling the truth. George was never really sure and, lie or not, it did little to make him feel better.

Fred always came first, even if he was born second. Maybe his whole life was spent making up for that fact. His name came first, he got a girlfriend first and eventually, he died first. Now, George would concede all those firsts without the slightest trace of resentment if he could have his twin back.

They were Fred and George, a set, a duo, a pair, a package, a two in one and nothing, not a girl, and not even death, could take that away.

**Written for:  
The Connect the Weasley's Challenge  
As Strong As We Are United (Version II)**


	12. Free Advice

"So, have you got any brotherly words or free advice to offer me before I take this life-changing step?" George jokes.

"What words could the handsome older bachelor have to offer his brother who's about to get married? Commitment is terrifying, and I think you should run far away, while you still can."

Though George laughs along with him, Charlie can see he's gone rather pale all of the sudden, and he's restless, readjusting his collar, pushing up his sleeves and then pulling them back down again.

"Maybe you've got the right idea, with this bachelor lifestyle of yours…"

Charlie is shocked. He doesn't know what to say; he's never been good at giving advice. That was always Bill's area of expertise, but Bill's not here, so Charlie will have to try.

"Nah, not really. I mean it works for me, sure, but it's not all fun and parties. It can get pretty lonely sometimes, being by yourself all the time… Besides, what would you do without Angelina? You two are practically inseparable now, and we can all see how good she is for you."

"Yeah, she always was, even at Hogwarts… This is us, see?" As he's speaking, George pulls a photo from his breast pocket and shows it to Charlie. Three figures smile and wave from within the image: Fred, Angelina and George. She stands in the middle, with an arm around each of them.

Charlie nods, smiling at how young and carefree they look in the picture. George takes a deep breath. "Guess I'd better go, have to be waiting at the altar and all that."

"Hey, George – good luck." There are probably better words he could have used, but those are the first ones that come tumbling from his mouth.

George turns back to face Charlie, holding the photograph in both hands. He glances down at it quickly, a smile forming on his face. "Thanks, Charlie. But you know what? I don't think I need it after all. Ange and I are going to be just fine."

**Written for the Connect the Weasley's Challenge.**

**Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review on your way out! :)**


	13. I Know

A high-pitched, terrified scream woke Molly from her slumber. Beside her, Arthur snored softly, his sleep undisturbed by their daughter's cries. From the silence in the rest of the house, Molly surmised that only she and Ginny were awake. Good. Ginny would feel even worse for waking any of the others.

Rubbing her eyes, Molly slipped her feet into her slippers and made her way to her daughter's room.

She knocked quietly a few times, saying, "Ginny? Are you okay?"

"Mum?" Came the reply. "You can come in, if you want."

Molly pushed open the door and felt her heart twist at the sight of her baby girl, so obviously distressed. "What happened?"

"It was the same dream again. It's always the same dream. Tom – You-Know-Who, I mean – he's in my head, he's making me do horrible things, making me feel horrible things. It's dark, and I'm alone and running as fast as I can, but I can never escape him."

Sighing, Molly sat on the bed next to her daughter, whose chin trembled with supressed sobs. Bravely, she fought them down, closing her eyes and taking deep, shuddering breaths.

Her eyes opened, meeting Molly's, and she mustered a weak smile. "Sorry about this…I'm so sick of being so scared all the time."

"Don't be silly, it's natural for you to be scared. And we're all here for you, sweetheart. We're your family and we want to help you move on from this as best you can."

"Yeah…I just – Hogwarts will be so full of bad memories and I – I don't know. Usually, I'm fine about it. I think everything seems more intense when I'm tired…"

"If you're really worried, we can get some more of that Dreamless Sleep potion, and you don't have to go back to Hogwarts straight away. Professor Dumbledore would certainly understand, and no-one would think any worse of you for being frightened. Goodness, after what happened, I think we all are."

"No, that's okay. I want to go back to Hogwarts, and I'm getting better every day. I'll be fine."

Molly smiled proudly. "I know, dear. I've never doubted it in the slightest."

**Written for:**  
**Connect the Weasley's Challenge**  
**The Sherlock Competition (Part 2, prompt 3)**  
**Ashleigh's Monthly Competitions (October)**  
**The Flower Language Challenge (Moss)**  
**The Fantastic Beasts Challenge: (Doxy)**  
**The Latin Challenge (Adiuvo)**


	14. Breakable

"Congratulations, dear!"

"Thanks mum," Ron said into her shoulder, suffocating in her fierce hug. When she took a step back, a wide grin was still plastered on his face. According to an exhausted but joyful Hermione, it had been there since he'd first laid eyes on Rose, and it would be there a long time yet.

"How are you feeling?"

"Happy! So happy, and proud, and terrified and overwhelmed and… Blimey, I can't explain it. I was so scared to hold her. She just seemed so small and breakable and vulnerable. She _is_ all those things, and she's depending on Hermione and I for her survival. We're the reason she exists… Bloody hell, I can't believe Hermione and I have a daughter. A _baby_!"

Molly nodded in understanding, unable to supress a grin of her own. "I felt exactly the same way when you were born."

Ron looked surprised. "But I wasn't the first. I was your sixth child; wouldn't it get a bit old by then?"

"Never. It wouldn't have mattered if you were my first, my sixth or my sixteenth child. Every single one of you holds a distinct and special place in my heart that no one else could fill."

Ron's smile grew, if possible, even wider. Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of a crying baby could be heard, loud and demanding. Molly leapt towards the bedroom, with Ron close behind. "Time for me to meet my newest granddaughter! From those cries, she's going to be a handful. I can't wait for when she hits her teenage years!"

Ron blanched, gulping audibly, and his smile momentarily disappeared. "Maybe you could give me free parenting lessons?" He joked weakly.

Yet as Molly watched him gently cradle Rose like she was the most precious thing in the world, she knew he wouldn't need any sort of lessons. He was already a devoted father, and Rose would be lucky to have him.

**Written for:**

**The Coneect the Weasley's Challenge**  
**The Disney Movie Plotline Competition: The Game Plan  
Le Sherlock Category Competition: The Blind Banker  
The Doctor Who Appreciation Competition: Twelfth Doctor**


	15. Push

"Come on, Bill, just push the button!"

"Why?" Bill asked suspiciously. "What's going to happen if I do?"

"Nothing, Bill, I swear it!"

"Do you swear on uncle Bilius' grave?"

"Do you have so little trust in me that you need me to?"

"You're avoiding the question."

"And _you're_ avoiding the button."

"Fine!" Bill rolled his eyes, and obligingly pushed the back of the miniature skrewt Fred held out to him. No sooner had he taken his hand away, than a burst of inky liquid shot out and splattered all over his face.

Fred laughed uproariously, his mirth increasing as Bill spluttered incoherently and failed to clean up the mess with his wand. "What was that for?!"

"No reason. I just thought we could all do with a bit of a laugh around now."

**Written for:**

**The Coneect the Weasley's Challenge**  
**The Fantastic Beasts Challenge: Gnome**


	16. Whitewash

There was no way to whitewash the truth, no way to sugar coat it. Fred was dead, and Percy was to blame.

He wanted to belong, to feel part of the close circle that was the Weasleys again, that was all. So he made a joke, like any of the others would have done. And by so doing, he made the greatest mistake of his life.

_"Hello, Minister! Did I mention I'm resigning?"_

_"You're joking, Perce. You actually are joking! I don't think I've heard you joke since you were - "_

Percy never heard how long it had been since Fred had heard him joke, because the world exploded, and Fred was lost amidst the chaos. Gone. Dead. They were puny four letter words, nowhere near large enough for the gravity of their meaning.

It happened in an instant, but sometimes an instant is all it takes to turn the world upside down.

Right before everything changed, Percy got what he wanted. As Fred gazed at him with glee and something akin to respect, Percy felt whole. He was a Weasley again.

Every moment after that was filled with missing Fred, with shame for distracting him, unspeakable remorse for not protecting him. Fred made Percy feel important for the first time in a long time, and Percy repaid him by letting him die.

The guilt never really left him.

**Written for:**

**The Coneect the Weasley's Challenge**


	17. Secret

"So how come you're hiding your relationship with Harry? It's not like it's a secret, Mum could probably see it was going to happen from miles away."

"Really, Ron? Can she see your feelings for Hermione from miles away, too?"

Ron immediately went tomato red, protesting furiously. "What – she – that's not even - "

"Sorry," Ginny backpedalled quickly. "I didn't mean to be so rude. That was out of line." At Ron's nod of acknowledgement which, along with his face and ears returning to their normal colour, she took to mean she was forgiven, she continued.

"Just because I'm not shouting from the roof that I was in a relationship with Harry - "

"You haven't even mentioned it," Ron interjected.

"Whatever. Doesn't mean anything. Harry ended it because he thought I'd be in danger if Voldemort knew about us. The less people who know, the better. For both of us."

"Okay, if you say so. I just – I knew how happy you were, and I didn't want you to be keeping it to yourself because you were, you know, ashamed or anything." Ron avoided her eyes, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Ginny smiled, recognising the effort it cost him to express his concern.

"And…know we're always here for you, yeah?"

"I do know that. Thanks, Ron." Seeing that he had started to go red again, she headed for the back door, calling over her shoulder, "Fancy a game of Quidditch? Me against you. Unless you're afraid of being beaten by your little sister?"

"You're on."

**Written for:**

**The Connect the Weasley's Challenge**


End file.
